Cake
by I Like Cinnamon Rolls
Summary: A strange love forged by sweet confections and freaky stalking. AU. May possibly be the most OOC thing you have ever read. For Ella, who drew me drawings of Gold for this.


"If a single woman sleeps with a piece of wedding cake under her pillow, she will dream of her future husband."

It was ludicrous. Stupid. Crazy. That's it; I was crazy. Whose idea was this, anyway? Did it really matter that it was _Gold_, the virtual epitome of _bullshit_ who suggested I try this? Did it matter that I wasn't even a girl in the first place? No, probably not. I was the one stuffing a slice of my friend's wedding cake under my pillow. With a disgusted grimace on my face, I listened to the squishy sound it made when I covered it up. Ugh.

I got into my pajamas and lifted the pillow once to take a picture on my phone of the messy cake and send it to Gold (who shall, from now on, be referred to as 'the Crapwad'.) He replied only with a smiley face. I sighed and put my red hair in a ponytail (it prevents tangles, apparently) before I climbed into bed.

I laid awake for a long time, just thinking about the past few days. They had been a blur of activity as we got ready for Blue's wedding. She had always told me I would be the first to find a good mate, which was a ludicrous idea considering she was the flirty, flitty one while I was the one boring friend that no one really wanted at a party, that spent the whole time brooding. It was good to know that she had accepted how annoying she was, though. Not that I'd mention it to her. Anyway, she gave me all kinds of crazy ideas on how to find a woman. She told me to go to a bar and hit on everyone just to see who returned to offer. I flat-out refused to do it; I wasn't the bar type anyway, and I knew I'd only get myself in trouble mingling with girls that were. She jokingly told me to get injured so I'd have to go to the hospital. It was how she'd met her fiancé (whose name was Joe, by the way. Stupid name, if you ask me.) She broke her arm falling from a tree after stealing Red's hat and flirted like crazy with the handsome surgeon who had fixed her up. I wasn't into hurting myself for the possible sake of love, so I turned that idea down as well. Then she turned the realm of superstition. She gave me rose quartz stones and told me to use the oils of lavender and rose in my bath water. I carried the stones with me and told her I'd used the oils just to humor her. And then I promptly tossed them in the trash.

It was the day before Blue's wedding that Gold called me, claiming he had a brilliant idea. I'd hijack a piece of cake and sleep with it. At first, I said hell no. I wasn't going that far into madness, no matter what he said. Right before the wedding, pretty much during the whole ceremony, and afterwards during the reception, Gold kept whispering or going on about how happy Blue looked and how old I was getting. Eventually, I just got fed up with it and promised him I'd give the damn cake a shot. Worst case scenario, I'd have a mess to clean up in the morning.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke the next morning after the most bizarre series of dreams. It wasn't the typical dream where you remember a specific series of events. It was almost like a slide show; a collage made of several glimpses and short films. Every single one of them had one thing in common: A man. He was tall, with blazing red hair, thick eyebrows, and angry brown eyes. He smelled of frosting, and when he kissed me, he tasted like sugar. I had cake on my face, neck, shoulders, and even some on my shirt, so I really didn't think it was surprising that I'd smelled and tasted it in my dream. I chalked it up to an overactive imagination; I'd set myself up for it, after all. It didn't even seem that weird when I realized that he was a guy, and I was a guy too. Nope. Not strange at all.

I cleaned everything up, washed the sheets and pillowcase, and took a shower. I had some breakfast and got ready for work. Gold wanted to know how everything went the night before, and I joked and said I'd seen Bigfoot. He really was a big man in my dream. He didn't think it was very funny.

A few weeks passed, and I didn't have the dream, or any part of it, again.

One busy Wednesday morning, my boss asked me to run an errand for him. He needed a package shipped right away and had forgotten to drop it off on his way to work. It wasn't typical of my duties, but I did it anyway. On my way back to the office, the car in front of me stopped short at a yellow light. I slammed on my breaks to avoid hitting it, but the jackass in the car behind me obviously didn't have the same reflexes. My whole body was thrust forward hard and fast as he hit me. It wasn't enough to cause any damage, but I was pissed. I had just enough time to unbuckle my seatbelt and utter a few colorful phrases before there was a tap on my window. I took a deep breath to calm myself down, then I got out of the car and came face to face with a chest. A nice, broad chest, I might add.

"_What_ did you think you were doing, running around slamming into everybody like a_ fool_?"

_He had a nice voice_, I thought. Then I remembered that I was being wrongly accused of something only a pigheaded jerkwad with horrible reflexes could do, and looked up. Red hair, thick eyebrows, and angry brown eyes. You have got to be kidding me. It took me a minute to remind myself that I'd been delusional that night, and this man's uncanny resemblance to the man in my dreams meant squat. I ground my teeth together. I _really_ didn't feel like a fight today. "I'm fine, really. Thanks for asking. As long as there's no damage to the car, I don't see any point in filing any claims," I spat out.

He nodded, obviously too perturbed to reply (and who wouldn't be? I was acting like a freak lately) and we both walked to the back bumper. There was a little paint scratched off, but I really didn't care. I was eager to get away from this situation. All I could think about was the way the man in my dreams had smelled like frosting. I refused to allow myself to lean in and sniff him.

"My name's Lance, by the way," he said as he held out his hand. I took it and pretended I wasn't tearing his eyes out with my teeth in my head.

"I'm Silver."

His head cocked to the side. It was kind of cute, in a menacing, sizing-you-up-for-prey way. Okay, this was officially getting really creepy. "Interesting. Do you want my number? I mean in case you have any problems with the car."

It was pretty obvious from the lack of serious damage that his 'concern' (whatever it was) was pointless. Still, I was always a cautious man, if I do say so myself, and I knew it would be stupid not to get his information. As we exchanged phone numbers, insurance information, and email addresses, I told myself it was purely for the unlikely event that my bumper falls off when I get back to the office. Or if he suddenly starts stalking me. Or if I suddenly started stalking him. _What the hell are you thinking, Silver?_

I spent the rest of the week trying to forget my freak encounter with the very literal man of my dreams. It was impossible. I even dreamed of him again. Twice. I saw Gold on Saturday, andshe wanted to know what the heck was wrong with me. I looked bad, he said. Then he started to bug my eyes out. I broke down and told him everything. He was ridiculously excited and tried hard to convince me to call or email him about a date. I wasn't so certain. And why is no one freaked out about this gay thing? _I'm_ not even freaked out about it. What was wrong with me?

Another week passed. It seemed things were returning to normal. That was, until my boss decided to use me as a gopher again. It was a small office, and he wanted to buy everyone coffee and doughnuts for doing such a good job under stressful conditions from his bosses. Of course he couldn't ask Bridget. Bridget would probably screw everyone's order up anyway. I hid my complaints under a smile and left.

The baker's shop was only down the street about five blocks, so it wouldn't take me long. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the place was the smell of frosting. I smiled and remembered the times my mother and I would come every Sunday to get a doughnut. She'd get coffee, and I'd get hot chocolate. The girl behind the counter smiled brightly as she helped the customer in front of me.

The door behind her opened, and my smile fell. How in the hell—

"I can help you here." His smile was huge; he obviously recognized me. I was a little nervous as I walked to the counter and stood in front of the admittedly handsome man. "What can I get for you?" Lance asked.

I pulled my list from my pocket and started to read everything off. It wasn't easy to focus on it when he was leaning over, trying to see it for himself. I finally just handed it to him. He chuckled and looked it over. "Office party?" he asked.

"I wish. No, just a gesture of appreciation."

He nodded. "Okay. Give me a few minutes; I'll get this rounded up for you."

I stepped back and watched him as he went around putting doughnuts in containers and filling cups of coffee. It couldn't have been five minutes before he had everything on the counter, ready for me to take. I got out the company credit card my boss had told me to use as Lance rang everything up. The total he gave me was too low; I'd added everything up in my head, and it was at least six dollars short.

"I didn't charge you for yours. Consider it my gesture of appreciation for such a large order." He winked at me. My stomach flipped.

"How do you know which order is mine?"

He held up the list. "You write this?" I nodded. "People always put their own first."

He was right. I had put mine first. I swallowed and pretended that it wasn't creepy. It was normal. "Well, thank you."

He nodded. "You're welcome. Come back and see me sometime."

I giggled. A real, honest-to-God giggle. "Sure." I walked out before he had a chance to say anything else.

I didn't go back, even though I wanted to. Every single day, I sat at my desk and thought about asking Mr. Murphey, my boss, if I could do anything else for him. Twice I'd run his errands, and both times I'd run into Lance. Or he ran into me, either way. Maybe we really were stalking each other. I didn't have the guts to do it, though. Gold bugged me on a near daily basis about Lance. I'd made the mistake of telling him how I'd seen him at the bakery, and he made a huge deal about how it was fate.

It had been a little over a month since I'd slept with cake under my pillow. I'd seen Lance twice and hadn't been able to get his brilliant brown eyes out of my head. They were light brown, the color of copper with gold flecks. His smile was crooked and contagious. Even thinking about it made the corners of my lips lift. His hand had been hard and warm when I shook it after we first met.

The gang got together one weekend to celebrate the news that Blue was pregnant. Gold kept giving me a pointed look, like he was waiting for me to tell everyone I was next. Of course I didn't.

Another week and a half later, Mr. Murphey asked me to run to the bank for him. I was a little disappointed that it wasn't another bakery run, but I guess I couldn't win them all. Being the middle of the day on a Tuesday, it wasn't crowded. In fact, there weren't even any tellers at the counter. I stood at the front of the line and waited for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it couldn't have been more than three minutes. The doors opened, and I turned to see Lance walking in. I swear my jaw dropped. This was starting to cros the line from freaky into_ terrifying._

He smiled as he walked up and stood behind me. "Hey, you," he said as he lightly bumped my arm with his elbow. "Long time, no see."

I nodded and cleared my throat. It was insane how mushy my insides became just by being near him. Oh geez, I was turning into such a girl. "Yeah."

"You didn't come back to see me." He pouted, and I swear it made him even cuter.

"I, um . . . I was busy."

He chuckled. "Liar. That's okay. I'll forgive you. How are you?"

I shrugged. "I'm okay. My boss sent me on another errand."

"Does he do that often?" he asked with a kind of frown.

I shook my head. "No, not really. I guess only when he wants me to run into you." He looked confused, so I told him I'd seen him now every time I left the office for Mr. Murphey.

Lance smiled. "Must be fate."

Oh, God. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the gurgle in my stomach or the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

His smile widened into the crooked, teeth-bearing grin that often starred in my daydreams. "You know what this means, right?"

I swallowed and looked over at the counter then back at Lance. "No."

"It means I should ask you out."

There was absolutely no reason for my knees to feel weak or my heart to flutter. And yet I wanted to say yes before he had actually asked. Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded. "Sounds reasonable to me."

"I still have your phone number. I can call you?"

This man had nothing to be apprehensive about anything. Didn't he already know he had me, hook, line, and sinker? Still, it was cute to see that insecurity, and to know that he wasn't a cocky asshole that assumed I'd be sleeping with him that very night. "Yeah. And you have my email address as well."

His smile came back to life. "Great. I'll call you tomorrow."

A teller finally showed up, and I all but danced to the counter to deposit the check I'd been entrusted with.

I probably should have realized that, as a man, Lance's "tomorrow" meant "three days from now." When I didn't get a call the next day, I told myself that he had just lost track of my phone number. I could call him. The paper with his information was still on my desk. I didn't, though, because I couldn't get my nerves to cooperate with me. Friday after work, I told myself I had to either call him or let him go. If it was fate, then why the hell hadn't he called me like he said he would?

It was six o'clock in the evening, and I paced my living room as I tried to calm down enough to dial Lance's number. It wasn't because I couldn't decide what I'd say. I had the whole script memorized, exactly what I'd say and how I'd respond to almost anything he said. The thing that worried me, though, was that there was a very real possibility he'd say that he changed his mind and didn't want to take me out. It broke my heart every time I thought of that scenario.

The phone rang before I could dial. My heart sped up at the sight of Lance's name on the screen. Oh, God . . . What do I do? I was frozen in a panic of uncertainty, and the ringing stopped. Had I really just sent him to voicemail? Only seconds later, the phone buzzed with a text message.

_How's it going?_

It was from Lance. I wasn't really sure what to make of it. I refused to let myself hide behind a text back. Instead, I went to the missed call, closed my eyes, and hit the call button. My stomach was in my toes as I reached up and placed the speaker against my ear.

"Hey," Lance said happily. "Silver?"

I cleared my throat to get rid of the giant lump that had suddenly taken up residence. "Yeah, it's me. Sorry I didn't answer; I was, um . . ." I couldn't think of a valid excuse.

"Don't worry about it. How are you?"

Anxious. Worried. A little angry. Relieved. Confused. "I'm okay. How are you?"

"Not bad. What are you doing tonight?"

"No plans yet." I ran my fingers through my hair and hoped this meant what I wanted it to mean.

"Good. Can I take you out to dinner?"

Why had I been upset again? "Yeah, that'd be great."

I gave him my address and directions to get to the place, and he said he'd be there to pick me up at seven o'clock. We hung up, and I began a frantic dance around the living room trying to straighten things up. As I changed my clothes, I had another minor panic attack. What do you do when you're going out on a freaky gay date with your possible stalker, anyway? Do I dress up or casual? I went with a happy medium, but frowned when I realized it was something I'd wear to work. I looked at the clock and sighed when I was pretty much out of time. I took off the vest and looked at myself in the mirror._ What the hell was I doing_? I was acting like a teenage girl. Monumentally pissed off, I threw on the first couple pieces of clothing I could find and tripped down the stairs just as the doorbell rang.

I smiled at my reflection and went to let Lance in. He smiled at me, but I instantly felt embarrassed, looking down at my tacky sweater my aunt knitted for me last Christmas. Maybe I should've thought this through. He was in jeans and a white t-shirt. "You look nice," he teased. Oh, how I wanted to punch him in the face.

I glared at him. He didn't really need much more of a retaliation. He shook his head and took my hand. "Don't worry about it. You look fine as long as you overlook the girly hair and your stupid outfit."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't start at trying to be charming. It's not working."

He chuckled and tugged on my hand. "I can't help it."

He took me to a casual Italian restaurant, and we talked about our jobs as we ate. His father owned the bakery until he passed away two years ago. He took over the business and found that he really enjoyed baking. I had to laugh at my imagined picture of him in an apron, covered head to toe in flour. I told him about the insurance company I worked for. It wasn't very busy, but work was steady and the pay was good. I'd been there since my senior year in high school, nearly ten years. I'd worked my way up from part-time office gopher to full-time agent. Mr. Murphey had been my boss since the moment I was hired, and we had become something I liked to call professional friends. We never saw each other outside of the office, but I knew I could always go to him if I ever had an issue.

Toward the end of the meal, the waiter came by and asked if we'd be having any dessert. Before I could respond, Lance shook his head. I raised my eyebrow and waited for the waiter to leave.

"What if I wanted something?" I asked with a smirk.

"Well, this date is kind of two parts. I was thinking after this, we could head over to the bakery for dessert."

He looked so cute and uncertain again, like he thought I'd say hell no. I smiled. "That actually sounds great."

He grinned. "Good."

After we'd finished eating, Lance paid the ticket and we left. He took me around the back of the bakery, and we went in through the kitchen.

"So do you make everything?" I asked as he took me out front to a table.

He shook his head. "No. Most of it, though. Red and Yellow are my two other bakers."

"Did you make what we're having tonight?"

"Of course. Stay here."

I nodded, and he walked away. He had two plates when he came back, each with a tall square of layered cake. "What's that?"

He smirked and set one in front of me. "Tiramisu." He sat down and picked up his fork.

"Looks good." I took a bite first, trying to ignore the way he watched me. It was official. I'd died and gone to heaven. "Oh, my God. Lance, this is amazing."

He looked relieved. "I'm glad you like it." He started on his own. Conversation was nonexistent, and I seriously felt like crying when I was done. I wondered how bad it would be to lick the plate. "Would you like some more?"

I looked up at him. "I really shouldn't." Who the heck was I kidding? "Yes."

He got up and took my plate. "I'll be right back."

After another piece and a quickly-abandoned secret plot to steal the rest of it, he took me home. He walked me to my door, and suddenly I felt awkward again. "I had a great night, Lance," I said.

"Me, too. We should get together again sometime."

I licked my lips and nodded. "Yeah, definitely." Was I going to get a goodnight kiss? Did I want one? Yes, I wanted one.

"I'll call you, okay?"

My brow furrowed. "When?"

He shrugged. "Wednesday?"

"Will you really call me?" All of my anxiety from earlier seemed so ridiculous, but I didn't want to go through it again.

"Yes, I will. I promise."

Relieved and satisfied, I nodded. "Okay."

We were both awkwardly quiet for a moment. I wasn't sure if I should turn and open the door first, or if I should wait for a kiss. Then I wondered if I could just kiss him. I liked him, probably more than I should after only a first date, and we'd already decided we'd see each other again.

He cleared his throat and reached out to hug me. "I'll see you soon."

I looked up at him. Before I could say anything, he dipped his head and placed his lips on mine. It was only for a brief second, more a peck than a kiss, but it felt perfect. I smiled as he pulled back. "I can't wait."

He touched my cheek briefly, then moved back. I got my keys out and turned to unlock the door. I heard his footsteps walking away. I waved as I stepped into the house.

I floated through the next few days. Gold insisted that he had to meet Lance, but I told him it wasn't happening unless he and I survived three dates. I wasn't that eager to subject him to Gold's craziness. He called me on Wednesday as he'd promised, and we talked on the phone for two hours. It didn't seem like we could run out of things to say, even though later that night I couldn't remember any specific subject. All the important things were mixed in with jokes, stories, and a never-ending calm sort of euphoria settled in my stomach. We agreed to another date on Saturday.

The second and third dates were much like the first. The second we went to a movie then had dinner, and the third we went to an arcade before we ate. After dinner, though, we went back to the bakery for dessert. I joked with him that he was trying to fatten me up, and he just smiled his sweet, almost embarrassed smile. I told him that Gold wanted to meet him, and he said the same about his sisters. So it was decided; we were going to meet each other's families. Or, I was going to meet his family and he was going to meet my annoying roommate. Close enough. I was more nervous about him meeting Gold than I was about meeting his sisters, but he said he felt the opposite.

Gold took every opportunity possible to ask Jacob about what he wanted in a relationship. Sometimes, I think he was trying to be my mom. Was he a long-term relationship kind of guy? Did he want to get married someday? Kids? I was thoroughly embarrassed, and yet secretly happy to know that he wanted children when he found the right girl. After Lance took me home, Gold called and gushed at me for a half an hour straight about how perfect he thought he was. I couldn't even deny it, no matter how annoying Gold was. And girly.

Lance's sisters, Rachel and Rebecca, were twins and four years older than him. Rebecca was married, but Rachel was still searching for love. They questioned me, as I expected them to, but they were both very nice. Lance honestly had nothing to worry about. He apologized to me quietly for their inquisition, but I assured him I was fine. I proved it with a kiss.

It was somewhere around our fifth date that I asked Lance to come inside when the night was over. I'd known him almost three months, and there was no doubt of where I wanted this relationship to go. I held his hand as he came in with me.

"Your house is nice," he said.

I smiled and reached up to hold his shoulders. "Thanks."

He smirked and kissed me. I touched his cheek and kissed him back. Part of me was still wondering, how did this happen, again?

It wasn't late, but we dragged a blanket from my room and snuggled together on the couch. We talked and laughed and kissed for most of the evening, but we never left it.

The months passed, and Lance and I got closer in almost every sense of the word. I had things I left at his house, and he had things he left at mine. The four ladies and three guys I worked with loved him for the simple fact that he gave me treats to take into the office with me once a week. No more grumpy Mondays.

We had been together for six months when Blue's birthday came around. I wanted to make a cake, but all I knew how to do was the Betty Crocker mix things. Lance laughed at me when I told him my plans.

"I could do better with an Easy-Bake Oven, Silver. Can I help?"

I was pretty sure the answer to that was obvious, but I said yes anyway. If I had learned anything at all about Lance in the months we'd been together, it was that he was the king of the kitchen and God help anyone who screws with his methods. Our first argument had happened because I tried to stir something for him. So I was pretty surprised when he asked if I wanted him to teach me how to make his layered coconut cake and frosting. I did want him to, though. It was like magic watching him put things together. He was always so fast, but he slowed down to let me actually see what he was doing and explain it to me. He was doing several things at once, and my head was pretty much spinning as I tried to keep up with him. I gave up trying to learn and just watched his hands.

Lance found the weirdest things to be self-conscious about. Sometimes he wasn't sure he could make a move he wanted when we spent the night together. Sometimes he wasn't sure I'd like a particular activity he had planned for a date. He was even concerned I'd be unsatisfied with the way he kissed me. There was no trace of doubt or insecurity in the kitchen, though. Here, he was a God, and dammit, he knew what he was doing. There were times I'd even say he was cocky about his abilities. Trying to teach me something I had no hope of ever understanding was one of those times.

He had some coconut in the oven, the cake batter was almost ready to be poured into the pan, and he had something boiling on the stove for the frosting. He added something else to the batter, stirred it together, and got a clean spoon out to let me taste it. He wasn't capable of making anything that didn't taste like heaven. After I told him it was delicious, he got a taste for himself. I watched his tongue clean the spoon, and suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. "Lance?"

He looked down at me, and I made my move. I reached up around his neck and pulled him down to me as I stood on my toes. I kissed him with my mouth open, and he got the hint. I groaned as my tongue met his; he tasted so sweet. He dropped the spoon and pulled me in close, lifting me off my feet. I wrapped my legs haphazardly around his. There was something pulling me, urging me to go further than we'd ever gone before.

I pulled back from the kiss and tried to catch my breath. "It's going to burn," I managed to say.

He kissed me again. "I don't care."

The gravel in his voice and complete disregard for his kitchen made my insides flutter. Somehow or another, we found ourselves on the floor. I didn't care that the ground hurt, it was undoubtedly worth it.

Gold started bugging me about marriage after Blue's baby was born. It was like he was dictating my whole relationship at this point. Lance was nice enough to endure the torture of his questions and comments when we went to see the newborn. I had to admit that holding the baby made me wonder what it would be like to have one of my own (which, was going to be an issue, but whatever. I'll just adopt one.) Lance and I talked about it that night, and we both decided that it wouldn't be half bad.

His proposal came three months later on our "official" one year anniversary. The date had been set one year after our first date, but I secretly considered our real anniversary the day he hit the back of my car. He took me to the Italian restaurant we'd had our first date at, then took me to the bakery for dessert. Luckily for me, he didn't bake the ring into the tiramisu, because I would have eaten it. Instead, when he went back to get a second piece for me, he brought back an empty plate. Well, mostly empty. In the middle sat the most beautiful diamond ring. I looked up at him, and he sank down to one knee and took the ring off the plate.

"Marry me, Silver," he said softly.

My vision was a little blurry as I accepted and let him put the ring on me.

I wasn't sure I wanted Lance to make our wedding cake, just because it didn't seem fair that he had to cater his own wedding. He relented after I explained my opinion, and we got the same person who had done Blue's wedding.

It was a beautiful affair, of course. I wasn't really sure what to wear (I was still a bit dizzy from getting this whole gay thing straight,) so I just decided to go with my dad's old tuxedo. Lame, I know.

Lance was so handsome in a white tux. He held my hand tightly as we recited our vows. The kiss was open-mouthed, but soft and full of promise. I gave Gold a smirk as we cut the cake. It wasn't as good as Lance's desserts, but it was still better than anything made from a store-bought mix.

After the night was done, I saved a slice of our wedding cake and put it in the freezer, but my reason may have been different from other people's. Blue said she had done the same thing to always have a physical reminder of that day. I did it to always have a reminder of the reason I was with Lance to begin with. I never told anyone about the cake I'd slept on or the dreams I'd had of Lance. Gold knew, of course, but she didn't tell either. I was happy keeping that particular secret to myself.

* * *

Written by Cinna. For Ella, and for cake.


End file.
